please don't leave me here alone
by slvtherxn
Summary: Lip Gallagher doesn't know why he continuously throws away the people who care about him. He's done it with Mandy for as long as he's known her, and he's doing it with Amanda. Just when they start to care about him, he pushes away until he breaks their hearts. (otherwise known as: Lip calls Mandy from his dorm in the middle of the night.)


Lip Gallagher doesn't know why he continuously throws away the people who care about him.

He's done it with Mandy for as long as he's known her, and he's doing it with Amanda. Just when they start to care about him, he pushes away until he breaks their hearts. He doesn't know why he can't stick by a nice girl for once— why he has to choose someone like Karen, or someone like his professor.

It's fucked, to say the least. He knows he's an asshole, but he doesn't know why. Bad parenting? Maybe. Childhood neglect? Also maybe. But Mandy's had both of those, and worse, and she's the sweetest girl he knows.

Sure, she's fucked up in more ways than one. She's a little unstable, just like he is. She's done some stuff he's sure she regrets. But she's not an asshole.

He guesses trauma affects everyone differently.

He also doesn't know why he can't stop himself from getting drunk. He can't have just one beer, like his friends, but instead he drinks until he can't stand. He hates himself for it, and he thinks if she were here, Mandy would hate him for it too.

The alcohol's part of why he calls her. It lowers his inhibitions, it makes him feel like he can do anything. That's why he drinks until he can't stand, because it makes him feel free. It makes him forget all the shit that's going wrong in the fucked up world he lives in. It makes him forget he's an asshole.

He's half passed out in his dorm when he dials her number. His dorm mates are dead asleep in their beds, and he wishes for just a second he was like them.

Normal. Not drunk. Asleep. Above the poverty line. Compliant. Not assholes.

He hangs up instantly when he hears the line ringing. Mandy's a nice girl. She doesn't deserve his bullshit. But since he can't stop himself, since his brain is a slurred mess of jumbled up thoughts, and he's less smart than he likes to say he is, he calls again.

"Hi, Lip." She sounds exhausted. He knows she's tired of him doing this to her, tired of him running back for a fuck and then leaving in the morning when he realizes she still cares. He thinks for a bit it's like taking advantage of her, but he can't stop.

"Mandy," he replies, the drunken relief obvious in his voice. "'M sorry."

She sighs. He knows her expressions so well that he can picture the frustrated furrow in her brow, the way she's probably biting down on her lower lip.

"It's fine," she replies, even though it isn't, because she doesn't want to fight with him. She never liked to fight with him. He always started it. He thought she'd be more keen on fighting, with the level of violence in the Milkovich house, but she's not. Before he can speak again, she adds in a smaller voice, "Why do you keep doing this to me?"

His heart sinks. If he wasn't so numb from the alcohol, it would've hit him far harder.

"Mandy," he repeats, quieter, "I don'know what's wrong with me."

"You're an asshole," she tells him, as honest as ever. He misses that honesty. He hates the constant bullshit everyone spouts here.

"Yeah," he agrees, softly. He knows he is. He's broken her heart too many times and too often for him to not be an asshole.

A moment of silence passes before he can't help it, sadness leaking into his voice. "I'm a drunk, Mands."

She sighs. He can tell she almost pities him, and he hates it. He wants her to go back to her fire she used to have. He feels a bit like he's burnt her out.

"I know," she tells him, "You've gotta stop, Lip. Stop drinking. Stop calling me so late—"

"I love you." He interrupts, surprising even himself. It's a weird moment of clarity, and he means it, even through the liquor.

Mandy doesn't think he means it.

He can tell, because she doesn't speak for a little while, and her voice is sad when she does. He can picture the heartbreak on her face, and he hates himself for it. He knows her face so well, he knows her lips will be slightly parted and her eyes turned down. He knows she'll try to hide it, but he also knows she can't.

"I think you're just drunk," she eventually answers, and he sits up in his bed.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive," he mumbles back, and Mandy pauses.

"Fucking stop, Lip. If you loved me, you'd do something about it," she tells him softly. "You'd have brought me with you, or called me sober, or… or thanked me for everything I did for you. I did _so much_ for you."

He knows this and it makes him feel shitty. Mandy's the reason he's here. He tries to not think about it, but it's true. He wouldn't be in college if it wasn't for her.

"If I call you sober, are you gonna pick up?" He asks, and barely a beat passes before she responds.

"You know I can't say no to you," she tells him, and he nods. She still loves him after all this. And he knows that. Even if he's an asshole, and a drunk, Mandy still loves him.

"I'm gonna call you in the morning," he decides, "But can you stay on the line for tonight?"

He hears her exhale, and can guess she's probably smoking. She smokes when she's stressed, and he stresses her out.

"Yeah," she breathes out, "I can stay."

He's almost relieved, but it feels a little selfish to keep holding her here. "I'm just like Frank, Mands," he tells her, "I'm a fuckin' drunk."

It's halfway true. He's in college, but he drinks himself into a stupor every night, so what's the point? He's turning into Frank, and Ian's turning into Monica, and he wants to find a way to help both of them before they spiral.

"You're not," Mandy answers, because she's a sweet girl, and she's always expected more from him. "You're better than this."

Her faith in him used to irritate him. They were from the same place, so why did he have to be better? But now he thinks it's what he needs. He needs someone who believes in him, not because his ego needs the boost, but because he's struggling quite a bit right now. He's still a cocky asshole, but he needs help. He can't do it on his own.

"I don't know if I am," he admits, "I went to a party yesterday. Made me think of you."

When Mandy speaks again, she sounds less sad. "Parties make you think of me?"

He nods his head, pulls his dorm covers closer around him. It's past two, but he isn't tired.

"Only good ones," he replies, and he imagines she's smiling at this point. "No one here knows how to throw a party like you."

"Do you like it there?" She asks, as if she's been wanting to. She put a lot of work into getting him there, and she just hopes it's paid off. He can tell.

"Yeah," he answers, "Yeah, mostly. S'too many rules, though."

"You'll find a way to bend every one of those," she promises softly, and she sounds more like the Mandy he's missed, the one who would give her left arm to see him succeed.

"Working on it," he replies, "Thank you."

She pauses a moment, "For what?"

He's got a billion things to thank her for, but he settles on, "Helping me get here. Picking up the phone."

Mandy doesn't answer right away, and when she does, it's after he can hear her take a long drag from a cigarette. "Don't," she stops him, "Thank me when you're sober."

He hopes he will. He thinks he will, but he's not sure he'll have the courage. He's still not sure he's able to love Mandy without crushing her, and between her family and a string of abusive relationships, she's been crushed enough.

"I will," he promises anyways, praying he won't break it, "I'll call you tomorrow after class."

He knows she's nodding, and he continues. "I miss the fuck out of you, Mandy."

"Do something about it, then," she tells him, "I can't believe you if you only tell me when you're drunk."

He understands that. It reminds him again of Frank, in a weird way. When they were little, and he would make them drunken promises. He'd never keep them, and in the morning, he'd be gone again.

"I know," he replies, "I know."

A moment passes.

"I'm gonna prove it to you."

There's a shuffle on the other line, in which Lip isn't sure what's going on. Mandy's voice is much more hushed when she comes back on.

"I love you," she whispers, her voice thick. "I still love you."

He hopes he remembers this moment in the morning, and he echoes back, "I still love you."

"I've gotta go, okay?" She replies quietly, "... Please call me. When you're sober."

He's barely ever sober these days, but he really wants to keep that promise. "I will," he promises, "Goodnight."

She hangs up with a click.


End file.
